


Preying on You Tonight

by CapriciousVanity



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Knifeplay, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:25:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousVanity/pseuds/CapriciousVanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oswald and Victor planned an evening together after hours. Victor even lets him use his special knife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preying on You Tonight

Penguin dabbed his damp hair with a towel then ruffled it. He sat on his new bed and looked around the room. He was still getting used to the new setting, the new bedroom, fireplace, _size_. It was nice for a change, but almost overwhelming. He jumped at the sound of a knock and a steely _Mr. Penguin_.

“O-one moment.” He hated his nervous stutter. He found his clothes and stuffed his shirt into his trousers, and threw his towel into a small pile of laundry in the bathroom. He wondered if he should put on a vest but decided against it, finally coming to the door and opening it. Zsasz was standing before him. He was significantly shorter than Zsasz, looking up to the man’s frighteningly hard gaze. It almost made Penguin squirm.

“I’m glad you could come,” he finally said.

“Happy to talk.”

Penguin let Victor in and led him inside. He was nervous as he poked his head out, looking down the hall on either side. No one else should be here, but it would still be embarrassing to be caught by Cat, who occasionally lurks around at night.

The place was big, but had a significant taste difference than what Victor was used to with working with Falcone. Victor helped himself to take a chair from the fireplace and set it in front of the bed. He motioned his hand to the bed and Penguin sat, unsure what to do with himself otherwise. Victor then sat in the chair before him.

 “It’s okay to feel nervous,” said Victor.

“I’m not nervous.”

“No? Not afraid of disloyalty or how I’m armed? I could kill you, you know.”

Penguin now new their little game would begin. A wicked smile graced his features with the slight tilt of his head and a fingertip tapped his lips.

“Mm, and how many people _have_ you killed? **Victor**?”

Penguin purred his name, knuckled brushing his chin curiously.

“Oh, maybe a few here or there,” he answered, teeth gleaming as he smiled.

Penguin leaned forward. Victor toyed with his ring absently.

“Oh, come now. You can tell me. Or,” he lifted his finger. “Or you can _show_ me, isn’t that right? You tally up your own little score, I hear.”

“Oh, that’s indeed correct, Mr. Penguin.”

Penguin gestures his hands outward.

“May I?”

 “You can count them if you want.”

“I want to.”

Zsasz cupped Penguin’s face, satisfied by the answer. He stood from the chair and lifted onto the bed atop Oswald.

Victor quirked his hairless brow as Oswald allowed himself to be pushed against his back. They felt the other’s breath against their faces. Victor sat astride Oswald, guiding the man’s hand to the top of his jacket zipper.

Oswald tugged the slider down, tearing his gaze from Victor’s intense eyes and down his bare chest.

“No shirt?”

“I like the feel of leather. It’s also faster.”

Penguin made a quiet, curious noise as Zsasz’s hand left his pale, freckled face. Victor slipped out of his jacket, tally marks strewn across his chest, but mostly neat at his arms. He removed his rings, placing them into his pocket. Cobblepot took up his bare arm and traced a long finger down one of the fresher marks.

“The tally marks are convenient…”

Victor hummed in response. He held out his arms and Penguin gently took one into his hands, tutting as he traced a diagonal scar.

“You should be careful with these. Not that I doubt your precision, but I’d hate to lose such a loyal _friend_ just as we met.”

“If it worries you, why don’t you kiss it a make it better.” Victor’s lips pursed at his own rhetoric. He moved from Penguin’s light grasp slid his hand under the man’s chin and jawline, fingers feeling the light flutter of his heartbeat. He brushed his thumb across Oswald’s lips and they parted.

Penguin brought Victor’s arm closer, kissing a tally set on the inside of his bicep with a languid glance up to the serial killer.

“Five,” he whispered, moving down to the next set.

“Ten…”

Victor sucked in his lips and bit the bottom tier as he watched Penguin glide down his arm.

“Fifteen…” Penguin dragged his tongue across the third set, scarred and somewhat scabbed. He lifted Zsasz’s arm to reach the inside of his wrist, kissing it delicately. His eyes ran over the rest of the scars on his other arm and chest.

“Twenty… Twenty-five… Thirty... Two?” He paused or a moment. There was a tally set that wasn’t finished amongst the others. “Don’t they hurt?”

“The pain feels good.”

Cobblepot gave him a few brief kisses to his fingertips.

“How many are for me?”

“Well, let’s see…” Victor sat up straight, astride the smaller man. His trousers were tight at his crotch and Penguin couldn’t help but let his gaze fall down Victor’s somewhat toned abdomen to follow the grooves of his hips there. Victor’s voice broke through and he looked back up to the man’s face.

“These over here,” Victor lifted his other to show the top of his forearm.  “And these,” he turned his arm to show the inside, just after the crook of his elbow.

“The others are all from Falcone?”

“No, not _all_ of them,” Victor corrected. “I have a personal life, too, you know. Besides… He didn’t let me kill as much as you do. I like you more. You let me do whatever I want.”

“Within reason.”

“Am I not… Reasonable?”

“But of course you are, dear Victor.”

Victor leaned forward, taking Oswald’s wrists captive, his dry lips pressed against Oswald’s almost too sweetly.

“It’s not fair, you know,” he murmured against Penguin’s lips in a cool, even tone.

“What isn’t?”

“You. Dressed.”

“Then undress me.”

Penguin gave him a smug smile as he adjusted on his back, lifting his chin to give Zsasz a view of his bare throat. Victor’s little finger dipped into the man’s collar bone before he slipped his hands under Penguin’s shirt.

Oswald arched forward as Victors hand smoothed across his belly from under his shirt. His hands, always cold, touched Victor’s waist. Victor was thin, sinewy and lean, but didn’t flinch at the chilled contact.

“Do you still want me to undress you?” Victor asked, cautious.

Penguin wondered if he really did seem nervous.

“Y-yes…” Oswald cursed himself for stuttering. Old habits die hard. He hated it even more when Zsasz smiled at it, nimble fingers undoing the rest of the buttons and slipping his clothes from him. The moment he touched Penguin’s belt, the smaller man stopped him, holding his wrist.

“Just…”

Victor brushed back his dark hair, patiently waiting for the next order. He wouldn’t act on his own without permission, it was something he was used to since working for Falcone. One of the few familiar things to him outside of murder. Penguin’s silence was too long.

“Tell me what to do. Please?” He stressed the _please_ , hoping to give Oswald a slight push.

Penguin swallowed and Victor sighed.

“Doesn’t the little bird know what he wants? Would you like a little help?”

“Yes, please.”

Victor new Oswald wasn’t strong, physically. He wondered for a moment how his pain tolerance was, if he hurt a lot or a little and if he liked it, hated it, or only enjoyed some.

Without eyebrows or lashes, his eyes seemed wider, more alert and observing. Although, Penguin didn’t doubt how observant he was.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Oswald stammered, “W-what?”

“Do you want to fuck me? Or do you want me to fuck you? Or we could just… Touch. Hm? Would you like that, just touching, this time?”

As he spoke, Victor gave Oswald a gentle, smooth caress at his arms.

“Do you want me to be gentle? Or rough?”

“I… You like pain.”

“Yes, very much.”

“Do you want me to hurt you..?”

“Only if you want to.”

Oswald sat up, Victor allowing him room to do so. He lifted a hand, hesitant, but slapped Victor; it was barely hard enough to get a sound out of him.

“Mm, harder. I’m not going to break.”

Victor took a quiet breath as Oswald flexed his hand in preparation. He slapped him harder, enough to turn his head.

“Oh, I think you can do better than that. You’re stronger than you think. Make the next one cou—”

Victor was interrupted by a much harder slap. It stung and he grinned with a shallow laugh.

“Much better. Much better.”

Penguin was breathing a bit heavier. Victor took up Cobblepot’s hands and guided them to his scarred chest.

Oswald dragged his fingernails down the man’s chest, leaving red marks in their wake.

Victor’s own hands ran over the curve of Oswald’s ass, lifting Oswald’s legs over his shoulders.

“Kiss me… Again.”

Victor’s teeth shimmered as he smiled, pushing Penguin back against the bed as he planted an open-mouth kiss to his crotch. He sucked lightly, the taste of dye still stuck to Oswald’s trousers but the way he shuddered made up for the distaste.

“Ah..! T-that’s not…”

“You didn’t say where, little bird.”

“Mm… My – ”

Victor lowered Oswald’s legs as they loosely wrapped around his middle. He flicked his tongue out to Oswald’s pale, pink flesh above his waistband.

“Your… Bellybutton?” He gently kissed Oswald there. “Your… Tummy?” Another kiss, just above Oswald’s naval. “Or a nipple?”

His lips formed around one of the hardened nubs; a hand snaked underneath the smaller man to hold him up and closer from between his shoulder blades.

Victor’s breath tickled as he found his lips by Oswald’s ear.

“Do you like it? The kissing?”

The trembling little thing stammered but Victor’s lips began to trace his jaw. As he pressed further against Oswald, he heard a quiet _ow_. Pulling back, Victor looked down to him, a spark of concern on his face.

“Did I hurt you?”

“It’s just my leg. Really, I’m fine.”

“I’m sorry. Is there a more comfortable position for you?”

“I… No, not really. ”

Penguin was genuinely surprised to receive this type of care from the serial killer.

Just then, Victor pulled his knife from his pocket. Oswald held his breath but the man tugged him further onto the bed and handed him the knife.

“I’ve killed three people today,” he said, wide smile on his face.

Oswald swallowed as he carefully took the knife.

“I… Don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then what’s the point?”

“N-no, I mean… I don’t want to cut too deep…”

Victor took Penguin’s hand, the one holding the knife, and kissed his knuckles.

“The human body is amazing. It can withstand so much. As long as you don’t cut an artery or split open a vein. Hell, even then. But I’m not going to force you to do anything, you can be assured of that, Mr. Penguin.”

“Please. Call me Oswald.” His voice was barely a whisper.

“Oswald.”

Penguin quietly considered cutting the new tallies into Victor.

“Where can I put them?”

“Anywhere you want. Even my face. Lay claim to me, so to speak.”

 _Lay claim to me_. His heart pounded and he hated it.

“..Turn around.”

Zsasz turned and loosely crossed his legs, hands resting on his knees as he waited for Oswald. He felt a cool hand touch his back, gentle and timid. It massaged a part of his shoulder and then he felt it. The cold, deadly-sharp blade cut into his back, between his shoulder blades. It was slow and he breathed roughly through his nose. It didn’t last as long as he’d like.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he growled.

“I-is that… Okay?”

“Mmm, that’s good…” He squeezed the fabric of his trousers, feeling his blood bead and roll down his back.

“ _Again_ ,” he ordered lasciviously.

Penguin steadied his hand, holding tighter onto Zsasz’s shoulder, red blade digging a little further into his back. He felt a pit in his stomach seeing a glimpse of red meat beneath the cut, but he felt better about doing it as he heard the hitman groan. It made his fingers twitch in a strange way.

“Oh… Ohohoh… One more. Pretty please?” Dark eyes peered back at Penguin.

One last cut, not as deep as the second, but just as slow. Another growl made Penguin feel warmer. He swore he heard the man whimper.

“Victor?”

The hitman twisted around and snatched the knife from Penguin. Sitting up on his knees, he made a long line across his own stomach, biting his lip.

“Ng, not deep enough for a scar. But enough to feel good.”

He crawled toward Penguin, pushing him back against the plush comforter and kissed him roughly, unexpectedly. He dropped the knife over the edge.

“Mm, what… Do you want me to do to you?” He muttered against Oswald’s lips.

“Hold... Hold me down.”

“Does my little bird want to be in a cage? Or does he want to be clipped?”

“I…”

“Ne’er to fly again,” he said between kisses. “Or… Or does he want to be eaten alive? Stuffed full and made into… Oh, what’s the French word for it? I guess it doesn't really matter. I'll make something good out of you.”

Penguin’s hands clutched Victor’s biceps tightly as he tilted his head, allowing his dangerous mouth to move over his throat and dip into the crook of his neck. From Victor’s arms, Oswald’s hands slid over his back, over the fresh marks and across the lines of blood that followed them, exploring the small ripples of muscle in him, the light bumps of his spine, and just barely slip into his waistband.

“Mm, you want me to eat you up?”

“Y-yes..!”

“Just devour every little inch of you,” Zsasz mumbled mostly to himself as he moved down, making a trail of kisses down Oswald’s neck and chest, hands surprisingly smooth against Oswald’s sides, feeling over his ribs and sides.

Victor wrapped his arms around Oswald, chests pressed against one another as he stole more kisses. Oswald hummed into his mouth; he felt Zsasz squeeze his squeeze, forcing his mouth open as he finally dipped his tongue into Oswald’s mouth. Nails scratched down Zsasz’s back, making him groan. Their bodies writhed against one another, hands wandering from face to arms to back.

Zsasz finally parted and took Oswald’s Adam’s apple between his lips, sucking and move down his throat. Lips trailed down the city-king’s chest.

Oswald felt his stomach twitch as lips fell further down, a tongue at his naval and teeth nipping just above his waist band. He looked up, fingers toying with the hem. Oswald gave him a quiet nod and Victor unzipped his trousers, tugging them down and gaining squeak of surprise. He tugged off the man’s shoes and socks and undid his own belt. Making a pile of clothes on the floor, he trapped Oswald beneath him and snatched another kiss.

“You’re a really pretty bird. Like a little cockatiel.” Victor stroked Oswald’s crested hair and kissed his jaw. His thumbs made circles under his eyes and moved down his shoulders, dusted with light freckles.

Carefully lifting Oswald’s knees over his shoulders like before, Victor kissed the inside of his pale thigh. He suckled the skin gently in spots, purposely avoiding Oswald’s swollen cock.

“Please… Victor, please,” Penguin’s hand tried to press the man closer, but all Zsasz did was nuzzle his leg and smile.

“I want to savor every piece. Eat you alive.”

“Please, just…”

“You never answered my questions, earlier. Do you want to fuck me? Or do you want me to fuck you?”

“I…”

“Either way, I’ll be swallowing you up.”

“Could you… Could you hold me down?”

Victor wasted no time to take both of Cobblepot’s wrists and hold them above his head.

“Like this?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm… I could tie you up. Would you like that? I could use both my hands on you. All over you. I know _I’d_ like that.”

His tone gave Oswald goosebumps.

“Yes. Yes, please.”

With a triumphant smirk, Victor left Oswald shortly, opening a closet to pick out two plain long-sleeved shirts. He wrapped one around the bedpost and tied the sleeves around one of Oswald’s wrists. He did the same to the other wrist. He rubbed Oswald’s bad leg as he moved down to plant an open-mouth kiss to Oswald’s cock. Penguin gasped at the contact, already tugging at his makeshift restraints. He felt Victor’s mouth take the head of his cock and leave just as quickly. He whimpered, light eyes looking down with a tinge of desperation.

Victor repeating the motion, taking only the head and sucking as he let go.

“Is this what you like? Being helpless? You have such a big responsibility, King of Gotham and all. Must be nice to let someone else be in control for once.”

Victor ran his tongue up the length of Oswald’s cock and squeezed him just slightly. Lips around the head again and he took him further. He didn’t mind when Oswald’s legs bumped against his shoulders, but he did push them open.

“Ah – ouch…”

Victor gently rubbed Oswald’s bad leg before getting back to moving his tongue and mouth around him, back and forth. A had wandered over Oswald’s ass and squeezed, pulling him in deeper into Zsasz’s hot mouth. Victor swallowed around him, sucking as he pulled up, enough to hollow his cheeks. Victor heard Penguin’s near-pathetic whimpers and tugging on his restraints. His hips bucked into Victor’s mouth. After a moment of processing, he realized Victor’s lack of gag reflex and was glad for it, as his involuntary spasms caused him arch his back and squirm.

“S-sorry,” he stammered, taking shallow, rapid breaths.

Victor took one, long drag from Oswald’s cock as he came up and swallowed back precum, wiping drool from his face.

“Don’t be. If you weren’t tied up, I’d let you facefuck me, too. But maybe next time.”

He sat back to stroke his own cock but paused, furrowing his brow. Penguin looked down to see he really didn’t have a single hair on his body. Victor looked around and smiled, leaning over the edge of the bed to get his jacket. Digging in the pockets, he found his lube and let the jacket fall back to the floor. He touched his lips curiously and looked to Penguin, pursing his lips.

“You know, I could ride you. Help you with your leg,” at the remark, he slid his hand along Oswald’s thigh. He shivered beneath Victor’s touch.

“Would you like that?” Victor’s hands wandered up the man’s small frame and he pulled himself atop him, bottle in hand. He dripped it over Oswald’s cock, hearing him hiss from the cold touch. Without much warning, he took Oswald’s cock in, grunting at the sudden intrusion.

“A-ah..! Victor..!”

“Oh, I love how you say it. Say it again.” Victor slid up Oswald’s cock, both hands holding onto his thin hips as he lifted himself, reveling in Oswald’s whimpers.

“Doesn’t.. Doesn’t that hurt..?!”

“Ohhh yes… But I like it. Remember?”

With expert balance, he slid back down and up Oswald’s cock, starting at a steady pace first, humming as he tried to regulate his breathing. Oswald bucked up into him again, gaining a yelp of surprise.  

Spreading his legs, Victor bounced on his cock at a quicker, rougher pace. He was quietly surprised by how deeply Oswald’s cock could fill him, considering the man’s particularly scrawny body. He made no verbal mention of it however. He straightened his back, allowing Oswald to fuck into him, against his own pace. The man under Victor was already on edge, biting his lip, legs slipping out beneath him from shallow kicks, fingernails digging into his palms. He whined through his nose, moans slipping from his lips on occasion. Victor leaned forward, pecking Oswald’s lips, rocking against his cock. He pressed his palms to Penguin’s sides, feeling the subtle spasm of his muscles with every “Victor!” he cried. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. Thumbs brushed over his nipples and a playful lick at his chin. Oswald couldn’t contain himself any longer, head thrown back as he called out, coming inside Victor, rolling his hips in a desperate attempt to quell his overstimulation. Victor didn’t stop or slow, he continued to ride Oswald’s cock even as he babbled nonsense and twitched. In the midst of inaudible phrases, Oswald finally put together, “P-please..! Ah-! _Please_!”

Victor slowed and stopped, stiff as he growled. A hand made its way to his cock and he gave himself a few strokes. He made a guttural noise as white ropes strewed across Oswald’s stomach. Two fingers wiped part of it up and he stuck them deep into his mouth. He wiped more and touched Oswald’s lips, which parted. Penguin tasted part saliva and part bitter come, swallowing coarsely.

“Oh, you don’t like it?”

“I-I just…”

“It’s fine. Not everyone does.”

“Do you..?”

“I’d drink the come right from your cock.”

Oswald wasn’t sure if his face could flush any further. He made a small noise as Victor lifted himself from his cock and patted his chest. Undoing the two shirts, he tutted.

“I’ll get you new ones,” he said, showing Oswald tears in the sleeve seams.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, hand lingering on Oswald’s chest. A smile graced his features as he left the tired man on the bed. Oswald saw that his cum was running from Victor’s ass down his leg and he looked away, entirely embarrassed.

Cobblepot could hear the water running in the adjacent bathroom for a few moments. A minute or so later, Victor emerged, washcloth in hand. Oswald sat up and Victor sat beside him. Victor touched the cool, damp cloth to Oswald’s chest and gently wiped down to his stomach, cleaning the come. He folded it the opposite way to clean the lube from Oswald’s cock. He whimpered and struggled to sit still, but Zsasz pulled him close, hushing him as he finished. With a kiss to Penguin’s brow, he left him to put the cloth with the rest of the laundry before getting back into bed, arms enclosing around Penguin. He pulled him close and stroked his hair.

“How was it, little cockatiel?”

“You know it was good, Victor.”

“Hm, no. I don’t. Communication is very important, Oswald.”

“It was good, Victor. More than good.”

They gave one another a soft, gentle kiss, but Penguin groaned.

“I’m sorry. Is it your leg? Do you want to turn around?”

“I… Yes.”

Penguin’s back touched against Victor’s chest, arms possessively around him.

“How do you feel, little birdie?”

“I feel…”

“..Yes?”

“I feel safe.”

“Oh? Even with a gun in my jacket and a knife on the floor?”

“Yes…”

“That’s dangerous.”

“…Am I in danger?”

“You always are. But not by me. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“Even with a gun in your jacket and a knife on the floor?”

Victor laughed and brought the blanket over their bodies.

“Yes, my little cockatiel.”

Oswald closed his eyes, allowing himself the comfort of momentary safety and after-bliss.

He woke to the sound of the shower. The early daylight peeked through his curtains but he didn’t feel like moving. Minutes later, he woke again, feeling something be draped over him. Zsasz stroked his cheek for a moment then leaned close, lips by Oswald’s ear.

“You can’t hide from me,” He whispered. Oswald could feel the smirk on his face.

As Victor left, he sat up, holding the leather jacket over his shoulders. He furrowed his brow. Did Victor walk out without a shirt? He supposed it wouldn’t be that strange, considering his aloof personality. He closed the jacket around himself, the smell of leather, real leather, distracted him along with a deep, woody cologne attached to it. Maroni, Falcone, Fish… They had small leather things. Wallets, shoes, purses… But not jackets. It was surprisingly warm.

 “It smells nice…” He said to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think you understand how many times I listened to "Animals" by Maroon 5.  
> Been wanting to write some Victor/Penguin again. I feel like Gotham's Victor would be a fantastic mentor when it comes to anything BDSM; exceedingly patient but also playful. Was hoping to capture their personalities but Victor escapes me more often than not and that sort of throws my writing Penguin out for a loop. I'll get better, eventually.  
> As per usual, yell at me if there's something dumb. Feel free to throw ideas or requests at me!


End file.
